


every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me

by gurlsrool



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, and a dog!, and cuddling, and heart to hearts, etc - Freeform, this is 1000 percent just love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7182077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurlsrool/pseuds/gurlsrool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 times Shitty Knight tells Jack Zimmermann he loves him +1 time Jack says it first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me

**Author's Note:**

> So! I wasn't going to post this today bc I didn't wanna edit (sorry if there are any typos left) but in light of Recent Events it's been a really rough day so I wanted to put some happy supportive friendship into the world! This fic is just Shitty loving Jack, Jack saying "Oh my god," and them cuddling but tw for strong language and mentions of sex, drug use, and alcohol. Also I got the title by googling lyrics about love that's why it's cheesy as hell sorry bout it!  
> UPDATE: So it turns out the edits I made didn't save?? The only one I remembered involved saying Guy Fieri's name instead of Bobby Flay's but other than that there might be some stylistic flaws left since it didn't save. Sorry! Enjoy anyways!

The day after their first winter screw, Shitty wakes up in Jack’s bed. There’s a glass of water, three advils, and a bagel on the night stand. “Jack Zimmermann,” he grumbles to himself, opening his eyes and groaning as the sunlight streams in. “You’re an angel.”

“Thanks.”

He turns to see Jack smiling at him from his desk, book in his lap. “Oh dude,” Shitty pulls a blanket over his head. “Oh shit, oh dude. You are not doing homework right now. Tell me you’re not doing homework right now.”

“Of course not,” Jack laughs, “This is just a good read.”

“You know, I always defend you when those senior douches say you’re a robot but maybe I shouldn’t,” Shitty mutters, reaching a hand out of the comforter and searching blindly for the water. He hears faint footsteps a moment later and then feels the advil pushed softly into one hand, water in the other. “Oh Jack,” he groans, throwing the pills back, “Have I mentioned that you’re an angel?”

“Yes Shitty.”

“A hockey robot angel.”

“Uh huh.”

“Jack?”

“Shitty?”

“Never let me drink tequila again bro.”

Jack laughs, “You don’t mean that.”

He moans and presses a hand to his forehead, “I know.”

“I closed the blinds,” Jack says softly a moment later, “It’s safe to come out.”

Shitty does, slowly, and takes a peek around Jack’s dorm room. He looks at the “be better” poster and the sole family photo on the mostly blank wall and it’s one of those weird moments where it hits him that his best friend is that dude he used to see on ESPN. Then, something else hits him and he says, “Did we fuck?”

“What?” Jack chokes on air and Shitty raises an eyebrow.

“Last night. Did we fuck? I just woke up naked in your bed, dude.”

“You’re always naked in my bed,” Jack points out fiercely and Shitty gives him a once-over, eyes narrowed.

“Jack. You don’t have to be a piece of shit about it.”

“What?”

Shitty takes a sip of water. “You’re acting like a douche,” He says nonchalantly, “like you’re horrified by the fact that you’d fuck me, which one is just plain rude but two is fucking homophobic, like I get that you’re a bigshot future NHL star but-”

“Shitty-”

“-that doesn’t mean you can act like a macho asshole like-”

“Shitty-”

“-you fucking me isn’t the worst thing that could happen I just really think-”

“SHITTY-”

“Dude what the fuck?” Shitty throws his head against Jack’s pillow, burying his face into the smell of standard boy soap. He makes a note to himself to consider gendering of scents for a senior thesis but forgets it quickly because really, that shit’s years away. “Stop yelling.”

“Let me talk then.”

“Look I’m not trying to be an asshole, you don’t have to explain yourself, I understand that you were raised-”

“Shitty.”

Shitty looks at him then, because he keeps saying his fucking name and honestly it’s getting annoying. He looks exasperated and desperate and… nervous. Like really fucking nervous. Like as nervous as he looked the first game Bad Bob came to. Shitty was the only person who had noticed how much he was gonna piss his pants and it kind of seems like that now, all wide eyes and shaking fingers.

“Jack,” He says carefully, “If you’re afraid I’ll stop being your friend because you’ve got some internalized homophobic bullshit-”

“I’m bi.”

Shitty’s head snaps up so fast his neck cracks.

“So I… I’m not being homophobic, trust me.” He won’t make eye contact with Shitty. He’s looking between the carpet and the ceiling and the wall and his hands that are shaking even more now, anywhere but Shitty. 

“Oh Jack,” Shitty whispers, “Jack Zimmermann get your beautiful ass over here.”

Jack stands from his desk chair cautiously and Shitty grabs him, pulling him down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you,” Shitty says and he can hear Jack’s heart pounding under his arms. “You gotta breathe because I love you, okay? And I’m not gonna tell anybody, I’m not gonna do anything that could possibly fucking hurt you, okay Jack Zimmermann?”

“Okay,” Jack whispers and his voice comes out strangled, like he’s about to cry which fuck makes Shitty seriously want to cry. He almost does, because fuck being too “masculine” for that shit but this moment’s about Jack, not him.

He swallows and says, “Thanks for telling me, man. I’m serious. You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

Jack doesn’t respond and they lay there, in the dark of his dorm room, for one long moment. Shitty’s about to fall back asleep when Jack speaks up.

“We didn’t uh… have sex, by the way,” he says. “I mean, no offense but you’re not my type.”

Shitty barks out a laugh. “Yeah? What is your type?”

“Oh my god.”

“No come on, this is our first real sleepover! You gotta participate!”

Jack sighs but Shitty can tell he’s really thinking about it which makes him feel a little fuzzy. “I think right now I just want someone… I don’t know…” he trails off.

“You do know but you’re too embarrassed.”

“Shitty!”

“C’mon, Shitty Knight’s arms are a safe space, just say it.”

“I think I just want to be with someone warm,” Jack says it quickly. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” Shitty replies sincerely, “I just don’t know if I get it, really. But your feelings are never dumb, dude.”

“My ex,” Jack goes rigid, “He was really, you know… cold.”

“Like… an ice rink?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

“Alright. So your ex was cold. And you want someone warm.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles, just before Shitty rolls over and passes out, “I want someone warm.” 

 

“Dude,” Shitty corners Jack in the kitchen. He’s standing in front of the fridge, inspecting the nutritional facts of a hot pocket like his life depends on it. “Dude. You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Jack says blankly. “What do you want Shits?”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Dude!”

“I have the solution to all your problems,” Shitty grins and grabs the box of hot pockets from his hands, unwrapping two and throwing them in the microwave.

“You have to put them in the paper thing,” Jack folds his arms.

“What?”

“The paper thing! They won’t be hot now.”

“Well excuse me Guy Fieri.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, the point is, your problems: solved,” He throws his hands up dramatically, “Okay you’re gonna hate me for like five seconds-”

“I always hate you.” 

“You’re gonna hate me for like five seconds and you’ll be like Shitty B. Knight, how does this even solve our fucking problems?”

“Our problems? I thought it was mine- what’s that noise? Oh my god.” 

The dog takes to Jack better than he thought she would honestly. He kind of assumed she would like, be put off by Jack’s rough exterior like most human beings are, but she trots right up to Jack and licks at his ankle. He fucking loves dogs, nonjudgmental angels. 

“Look at that!” Shitty grins, “She’s in love with you!” He squats down and pats the pug’s head, “It’s about time someone else recognizes how fucking beautiful you are!”

“Shitty.”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get… it?”

“Her,” Shitty corrects pointedly before tugging Jack to the dirty kitchen floor beside him, “You gotta be at like eye level to bond, dude.”

“Shitty. Answer the question.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Shitty sighs, itching behind the pug’s ear. “So you know that freshman, Larissa, I’ve been hanging out with?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “The short girl you’re in love with?”

“I am not!”

Jack just raises his left eyebrow alongside his right one. That fucker. 

“Anyways, we went to the dog shelter together to play with some puppies-”

“Right. Your dream date. Did you get ice cream after too?”

“We… might have gotten fro yo.”

“Shitty!”

“Do you want to hear this story or not?! Anyways, so we were like playing with the dogs and I wanna take all of them home but Lardo-”

“You gave her a nickname?”

“-is like ‘dude you really can’t’ so I finally give up and we walk out and across the street there’s THIS LITTLE GIRL!” He gestures dramatically at the snorting pug, who’s slid down on her paws and is laying on her stomach between the two of them now, panting contentedly. “She wasn’t in the shelter! I don’t know what she was doing! She was about to just waddle across the street Jack, she could have DIED!”

“So you… took her here?”

“No,” he rolls his eyes, “We took her to the fro yo place. They have these little doggy cones, it’s fucking adorable. Then we took her here.”

“Why didn’t you just take her to the shelter you were five feet away from?”

“Because!” Shitty exclaims, “It was like a sign, seeing her! She’s ours Jack! You can name her something hockey related. Like Gretzky or some shit!” 

“I’m not going to name a fat dog after my uncle.”

“Don’t fat shame her! It’s amazing she’s so plump and healthy, she’s homeless Jack! Homeless.”

“She probably isn’t,” Jack points out, “She could just be lost.”

“No way!”

“Shitty. We can’t keep this dog.” 

“Jack,” he whines into his shoulder because really, he knew Jack would be a hardass about this, but this is like… their soul dog. “We’d be like the best dads! Can’t we just keep her? Please please please-”

“Shitty-”

“Please, look at her,” The pug flops over on her back so she can get her belly rubbed and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen since that time Lardo laughed so hard milk literally came out of her nose. “Jack. It would help. You’ve just been…”

“What? Lonely? Just say it. I know they all hate me.”

“They don’t! Those frogs Ransom and Holster totally dig you-”

“Yeah and besides maybe Johnson all the upperclassmen aren’t… fond of me. It’s okay Shitty. I’m okay. I get it, I’m not very, you know,” He waves his hands vaguely. 

“Not very what? Not beautiful and talented and smart and funny in a weirdass way and dope as hell because that is the biggest lie since like… that time you said you wouldn’t suck Seguin’s dick.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“I don’t believe you! You’re full of fucking lies! You act like you don’t deserve love Jack when you do, like… so fucking much. I love you so fucking much Jack.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Shitty grabs Jack by the neck and plants a sloppy kiss on a forehead, “So are you ready to admit you deserve Puck’s love?”

“Puck?”

“I’m trying out names! Keeping them hockey related, just for you!”

“Shitty, this isn’t about my relationship with the dog, we just can’t keep her. Look at where we live, I mean it’s a miracle we’ve survived here, she’d eat something toxic in minutes. And we’re busy in practice and classes and you’re even more busy now with Larissa-”

“Lardo,” he mumbles.

“Right, whatever. Anyways, what about roadies? And kegsters? And what about when you’re stoned or drunk or stoned and drunk-”

“Okay,” he looks down at the pug, frowning, “I get it, I get it. We’re not cut out for family life yet.”

“It’s for Puck’s good,” Jack says, finally reaching a hand down and rubbing her stomach. “We’ll find her a good home eh?” 

“Yeah,” Shitty nods against Jack’s shoulder, “You know like… not to enforce traditional roles on you but you’d make a great dad, man.”

“I want to,” Jack admits shyly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. A house with a family and a yard.”

“And a dog?”

“Maybe a cat.”

Shitty opens his mouth presumably to protest but is cut off by the microwave beeping. “YES!” 

He jumps to his feet, throwing the microwave door open and double fisting the hot pockets, “Ah shit,” he frowns, “They’re cold.”

He can practically hear Jack rolling his eyes.

 

“Can you believe like any of this, dude?” Shitty speaks to the stars, hands folded behind his head. Shitty can tell Jack’s uncomfortable, shifting on the roof beside him, trying to find the perfect position. 

“Hmm?”

“We’re gonna be seniors!” he raises a fist and lets out a triumphant whoop, “We’re going to graduate.” He shifts over on his side, tapping Jack’s shoulder so he’ll look him in the eyes, “GRADUATE!”

“Yup.”

“You’re gonna be a fucking professional athlete and I’m gonna… go to fucking law school,” he takes a long swig of his beer, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, “Fuck.”

Shitty laughs, loudly, and then says, quietly, “I’m going to have to cut my hair, aren’t I?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re going to have to pretend you’re straight.” 

Jack’s silent for a moment and shit Shitty like definitely overstepped, he’s really gotta reflect on this later. “I already do that Shits. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Shitty protests, “I mean. It is! Like come out whenever, seriously, shit I sound like an asshole don’t I? Like a huge fucking straight privileged asshole, fuck. What I’m trying to say is that it’s bullshit that you can’t come out.”

“It’s okay, Shitty. It’s been three years. I speak your language. I get what you’re saying.” Jack turns his head and smiles, like he’s trying to reassure Shitty that they’re okay. What a beautiful man. Shitty grins back. “It’s fine. It’s not like I have a… boyfriend… or anything,” he sighs.

“Whoa what’s that mean?” 

“What’s what mean?”

“Do you… want to have a boyfriend? You have your eye on someone don’t you?!”

“No!” Even in the dull light of the roof Shitty can tell that Jack’s face is bright red.

“Alright, alright,” Shitty replies, “I’m not gonna press you.”

“Really? This isn’t reverse psychology, is it?”

“No!” Shitty laughs, “It’s your life, dude, you don’t have to tell me… or anybody… anything. I love you.”

“I know.”

He goes for a subject change. “Were you... seriously surprised we reelected you?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“You’re a great leader, man, seriously. Make sure this boy you’re into knows that. It’s one of your best traits.” 

“Yeah? Make sure Lardo knows you’re a great… friend.”

“Fuck off,” he digs his elbow into his side.

“Seriously, when are you just going to… talk to her?”

Shitty sighs, lies on his back again, looks up at the sky and determinedly doesn’t think of Lardo or senior year or law school or his family or being anything more than a doorway away from Jack. “That would just be too fucking simple wouldn’t it? Why don’t you just talk to your boy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

It says a lot of how far their friendship’s come that Jack only hesitates for a very short moment before he says, “He deserves… a lot.”

“You’re a lot,” Shitty says through a smile and a yawn, “a whole fucking lot Jack Zimmermann. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Jack echoes, sounding like he at least partially believes Shitty, which is enough for now.

 

“JACK ZIMMERMANN!” Shitty runs into the apartment and Jack’s arms. “Look at you! You’re so fucking buff!”

Jack’s apartment looks like a fucking ikea ad but standing there with him is still the most at home he’s felt since graduation. He’s pretty sure he’s grinning like a dumbass but Jack is too, that beautiful loser. 

“I brought you a housewarming gift,” he grins, dropping his duffel bag and pulling out the two gifts he wrapped in ESPN articles about Jack. 

“I’m assuming this one is beer,” he nods at the messy lopsided barely wrapped six pack that was plopped in his hands. 

“Well fuck the NHL, you could get a job as a little detective couldn’t you?!”

“Little? I’m taller than you.” 

“Barely,” He waves his free hand before shoving the other present in Jack’s hands as he places the six pack on the beautiful fucking hardwood floor. He makes a mental note to try sock sliding on it later. “Open it, open it!”

Jack does, ripping at the paper carefully like the fucking loser he is. “Oh,” he crinkles his eyebrows at the framed painting. He looks back up smiling. “Is this Lardo’s?”

“Fuck yeah! I like… commissioned her,” he walks past Jack, flopping down on the couch with a sigh, “I told her to think of my friendship with you and paint it! I don’t really get it but it’s fucking beautiful.”

“Yeah. Thanks Shits,” Jack smiles and sits down beside him, turning the painting over in his hands. “So you… ‘like’ commissioned her? I’m assuming that means you paid in something… other than money?” 

Shitty’s jaw drops. “Jack Fucking Zimmermann!” He grins, “Are you honestly making innuendos? What’s gotten into you?! Or who?

“Ha,” Jack lets out a single, very forced laugh that makes Shitty flop over on his stomach so he’s face to face with Jack, his body sprawled out on the couch and his head settled into the palms of his hands, elbows digging into the leather.

“Jack.”

“Uh… yeah?”

“That’s the same fakeass laugh you gave me when you said you didn’t fuck Camilla Collins!”

“Okay?”

“And you did!”

“I didn’t!”

“Dude oral counts and you know it does! The point is, it was a lie! That’s your lie laugh!” He scoots forward so he’s inches from Jack’s face, “You gonna tell me what’s up or do I need to crack open that six pack?”

“What happened to your privacy is important policy?” Jack leans away from his gaze shyly. 

“Still stands but like… you’ve been acting funky all summer dude. I mean kinda good funky if that makes sense, but still.”

“I have not!”

“You have too! I didn’t want to say anything til we were together and could have like a classic Shitty Knight-Jack Zimmermann sleepover slash heart to heart but dude… you’ve been like... glowing during our skype calls. At first I thought it was just the computer light but that smile! Look at that!”

“Oh my god,” Jack runs his hands through his hair and jumps up, quickly pacing to the kitchen. Shitty follows, leaning against the counter, watching Jack. Jack’s finally stopped pacing and is standing beside the oven, fiddling with his phone of all things.

“Dude… what’s going on? You’re acting weird as shit. Are you like…” he looks around twice and drops his voice, “High?”

“What? No.”

“Dude no judgment, I mean, obviously. Although, it might not be super wise to get into that shit now, like with the whole athlete thing and the celebrity thing and-”

“You know Bitty?” Jack interrupts, loud enough to cut Shitty off. 

“What?”

“Bittle. Eric.”

“Uh yeah… small southern baker, fast on the ice, one of our best friends in like… the whole fucking universe?” Shitty blinks, “I’m pretty familiar.” 

“He’s not… um,” Jack swallows, “He’s not my friend?” He says it like a question and Shitty frowns.

“Did you guys have a falling out?” His eyes go wide, “Dude do you need me to like play friendship lawyer because I don’t really know which one of you to defend-”

“We’re dating,” Jack blurts out. He brings his gaze up from the floor to Shitty, “Me and Bitty. He’s my… boyfriend.”

“Holy shit,” Shitty whispers, “Are you serious? You’re serious right?”

“Uh…” Jack rubs the back of his neck with his hand that isn’t gripping his phone like it’s his lifeline, “Yeah?”

“Dude!” Shitty squeals, lunging forward and throwing his arms around Jack. “You’re dating! Bitty. You’re dating! You’re dating Bitty!”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles as Shitty draws back, “Yeah… I am.”

“DEETS!”

“Oh my god.”

“Jack,” Shitty folds his arms, “There’s no way you’re getting out of this.” 

“I don’t even know how to give deets,” Jack mumbles and then gets a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Maybe you could go first. Lead by example.”

“So… if I give deets, you’ll give deets?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. I ate Lardo out in exchange for your housewarming gift. And also because I like… really wanted to. Like really really wanted to.” Jack’s eyes go wide and Shitty grins, jumping up on his counter, swinging his socked feet back and forth.

“Oh my god.”

“Dude, the noises she made-”

“Nope, stop, there, that’s fine.”

“Your turn then.”

“Oh. We um… kissed… at graduation. And I mean, we’re in different states right now so there’s not much to tell… We’ve just been skyping. A lot.” 

“Graduation? That was like months ago!” Shitty grins, “Wait a second… weren’t you down there visiting him like last week?”

“Uh…”

“Oh my god!” Shitty jumps up and lunges at him again, “You boned him! You had sex with him during a southern fucking fireworks display!”

“Well… it was after?” 

“Dude,” Shitty draws back, “You sly dog! I fucking love you! How was it? I’ve always felt like Bitty would be a screamer like the dude just has so much to say!”

“Oh my god Shits,” Jack groans into his shoulder, “His parents were down the hall. But uh… it’s good.”

“Yeah it is!”

“No,” Jack draws back, “I mean all of it. It’s good it’s really… he makes me happy.”

Shitty looks at him. He looks at him and thinks that fresh faced college freshman Jack Zimmermann wouldn’t believe he’d be here, in this apartment, signed to an NHL team, in love with a boy who’s totally in love with him too. He kind of wants to invent time travel, just so he can go back and hug that floppy haired Jack and tell him everything will be okay. The thought makes him cry, just a little.

 

That night, Shitty lies with his arms wrapped around Jack’s chest and Jack’s head tucked under his chin. Jack had offered the guest bedroom but they both knew there was no way in hell that was gonna happen. Jack still played his whole reluctance act anyways, he’s cute like that, Shitty thinks, laughing to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Jack mutters from where he’s struggling to text Bitty with his one hand freed from Shitty’s grip. He really doesn’t want to intrude and he’d never read Jack’s texts without his permission but that doesn’t stop him from accidentally glancing and accidentally seeing a shitton of heart emojis and making him grin even wider. 

“I was just thinking about that time at the beginning of freshman year,” Shitty says, “You were like so fucking quiet and shit and everyone thought you were a pretentious asshole and I kind of did too.”

“I know Shitty. I’ve heard this story a thousand times. Also, I was there for it.”

“Shhh. I thought you were a pretentious asshole but then we were all high, except you, and playing scrabble and you fucking played the word rim job. And I laughed so hard because like… you hadn’t even said more than like two words that weren’t hockey related and everyone thought you were a literal robot and it was so unexpected, fuck. And I was laughing my ass off and you just looked me dead in the eye and shrugged and said, ‘I have to win.’”

“Well… I did,” Jack types out one last text, probably a sweet dreams or something fucking adorable, and tosses his phone on his night stand, now leaning into Shitty’s grip more. 

“I think that was when it really hit me that you were something special Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything often so Shitty doesn’t think much of it, closes his eyes, sinks back further into Jack’s cloud of a king size bed. “I think I knew from day one,” Jack says after a few minutes of silence, so quietly that Shitty wouldn’t have heard if they weren’t so close.

“What?”

“That you were… something special. I don’t know. I mean you were… a lot,” Shitty snorts, “But all the guys were kind of weird about me being who I am and my dad and the overdose and you… weren’t. You talked to me like you didn’t already know my life story. You asked me what the weather was like in Montreal and you asked me what I wanted to major in and then you asked what my parents did for a living and then laughed at your own joke for like five minutes.”

“It was funny! Come on, you gotta admit-”

“I love you.”

“Jack…” Shit. He can feel his heart in his throat now, honestly, fuck this fucking masterpiece of a man. He’s pretty sure his heart is going to like leap out of his mouth he’s so overwhelmed by how much he loves him. 

“I just… wanted you to know, you know. Because I do. And Bitty and I have been talking about you know… expressing feelings better, lately-”

“Bless that boy.”

“So I just… wanted you to know. That’s all.”

“Jack you’re such a dumbass,” Shitty can feel Jack blinks and immediately amends, “No, no, relax, I just mean like… I know. You may not say it with words all the time but like… you cuddle with me and you call me to talk about stupid shit and you always make sure I don’t die of alcohol poisoning and you vaguely told me about sucking Bitty’s dick tonight.”

“Shut up.”

“Just… I know,” Shitty can feel Jack relax in his arms. He can feel the tension release, just a little. Jack’s heart’s still pounding a little too fast, because it always is. He can’t feel his hands but he knows they’re sweating a little too much, because they always are. He knows that Jack will never fully believe that he deserves Shitty and Bitty and the falconers but he also knows that everyday, Jack manages to do something that’s hard for him. He gets out of bed, he brushes his teeth, and he lives.

“I love you too Jack Zimmermann,” Shitty says and he’s said it a hundred times before, a thousand times, a million times and every time he’s genuinely meant it but for some reason this time, this moment, feels like more than the rest of them. 

Maybe it’s the fact that Jack’s opened up to him so much tonight, more than he has in awhile. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re not at Samwell anymore and their lives have changed so drastically but they’re still the same them.

Or maybe, Shitty thinks, as Jack fusses with the blanket, pushing it down to his feet, it’s the fact that right now wrapped in each other, they’re both completely, overwhelmingly, contendedly warm.

He doesn’t know for sure and he really is tired as hell so he dozes off easily and thinks of what he is sure of: He’s sure that he’s going to hate Harvard. He’s sure that he misses Samwell. He’s sure that he misses his flow. He’s sure that just being around Lardo when she’s quiet, busy painting on a white canvas, is better than any other encounter with another human being he’s ever had in his life. 

He’s sure that when he wakes up in the morning he and Jack will get coffee. He’s sure that Jack will drag him on a run. He’s sure that he’ll sit naked on Jack’s couch while watching some dumbass documentary. He’s sure that he’ll ask for deets 100 times and Jack will just blush. He’s sure that they’ll wrestle and he’ll laugh and he’ll lose.

Most of all, he’s sure that in the morning he’ll wake up and Jack will still be in his arms. He’ll be there to roll his eyes when Shitty chirps him about his morning breath and he’ll be there to spend two seconds trying to push Shitty off of him before giving in and he’ll be there to pull the blanket over Shitty’s head when the sun gets too bright.

Shitty falls asleep happy, smiling, breathing. Jack will be there and for now, that’s all he really needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 4 any lgbtq+ peeps reading ily i love us, we are So Good ok ily!!!! Hmu at gaysun on tumblr to talk gay shit and hockey shit.


End file.
